Thinking pathetic fallacy again- how on this day- the day you would’ve returned to me but will not- it’s so static looking outside. White sky with some grey. No Sun. The flag outside our building blows a little bit- in slow motion.
Every time you left for tour on the bus- I swear it was pouring- as I watched from the window- your figure with your backpack on your back and the big suitcase you pulled behind you. Watching you cross the busy road in front of our house. Worried that you might get hit by a car if you weren’t careful.
And then after I’d had a good cry and watched your bus, #158, come and go and knew you were on it- on your way away- the sun would just magically appear.
Remembering this morning a short song I wrote before we were married- when I was always dropping you off at another bus stop- on Route 17- to go back into the city after our “dates.” I sang it for you and you wrote a beautiful bluesy piano part for it. We never played it for anyone else. This was in the winter:
The taste of your mouth
is still on my lips.
The weight of your stare
still holds me here.
And you’re half way down the highway
by the time I turn to leave
and it’s quiet and so still here
in this snowy parking lot.
And you go away,
and you go away
please don’t leave me here